#WordPress writes

[lilyflxwers]

nartheflower/inanotheruniverse//sk//clarice lispector/the hour of the star//taylor swift/the archer//david foster wallace//david bowie//unknown//maya hayyas/parts of me never left that house//cowgirlrising//phoebe bridgers/waiting room

[nightmareevara]

Let's be each other's home that's all I ask for.

[moon0-0stone]

How many doors I have to exit before I finally leave?

[originalferal]

no one ever told me i would spend so many nights forgiving people who didn't even apologize.

[deadlypoetacademia]

How beautiful is the art of remembering little things. Like you got me a red velvet cake for my birthday just because I randomly told you about it once we were passing through the bakery, like you know the name of my favourite perfume, like you know I have a habit of holding hands while crossing the road, like you know I like spicy food more than sweet, like you know so much about me about such little things. Could I love you anymore?

[yourmelancholickid]

you apologize for the words you said,not the wounds you cut or the scars that stayed

[disguisedfeelings]

I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because 'romantic' doesn't mean 'sugary.' It's dark and tormented — the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can't attain.

— Catherine Breillat

[potato-face09]

[gargiyadav]

What do I do with my grief?

I know not how to handle my grief.

Where to put it, how to tame its insurmountable spirit.

How to sing it lullabies for my voice always crackles up.

How to call out its name without fearing the worst.

What to say to it when it comes running to me like a child.

What to whisper in its ears so as to soothe its wild nerves.

I know I can very well discard it, get rid of it forever, but if that would have been possible, i would not be writing this poem today titled, "what do I do with my grief"

I know not how it's so capable of being so alive when I, the harbourer, has died so many times.

Isn't this grief that I carry in my belly, my child?

If that's the case, it should have died long time ago.

But here it is, chuckling and stretching its limbs, looking at me with its endearing eyes, waiting to be picked up with utmost affection.

[areebianights]

I hate crowded places. I hate the nagging presence of people around me. I hate their comments and their judgments.

I hate that they are so close to me that when I speak up, my voice has no place to exist, and it comes back damaged.

I hate that my words come out just to be crushed by the melee the crowd forms.

I hate that people have the audacity to hug my body when they discard my words as if they're nothing.

Sometimes people are far away, so your voice doesn't reach them, but sometimes they are so much close that it dies before even coming out.

I like open fields, where I am insignificant. Where no spotlight is on me and I'm unbothered. Where I live for myself and am not performing for anyone.

They sometimes ask me what I want my superpower to be. Mind reading? Teleportation? And I just think to myself, Is it not possible to vaporize? To just convert into fumes and blend into the air and diffuse.

I hate that my whole being is concentrated into this form, which has an identity, a name, a face.

I can't stand it that all the qualities I hate come together and form me, and that I am on display to the world.

People want to be somebody to someone, but I want to be a nobody to everyone, so that I can be somebody to myself.

-Areeba

[nightmareevara]

That urge to turn your giggles into moans

[moon0-0stone]

I say I don't care but nobody cares more than I do..

[originalferal]

[deadlypoetacademia]

The intimacy of non materialistic things, of holding hands, of the art of remembering little details. The beauty of that secret little eye contact, of that shy smile, of that old school love. The purity of knowing a person inside out to loving their soul.

[rosessanctuary]

"There are two seasons to everything: change, and the threat of it."

Shruti Buddhavarapu

[transcendragon]

Election Night Poem

Stop

Stop looking at the polls,

And look into my eyes.

Before a single thing,

Before any one of 50 states swing,

Before the news and texts,

Before the speeches lead on to the next,

Listen.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you, and I will be there for you.

I love you.

Can you hear me?

Take a break from the rest of the world

For just a moment let me be all

And listen

I love you.

We will take care of each other.

I love you.

That’s all.